Sleepless Nights
by partyhard.darius
Summary: [PARTY HARD] The time is April, 2000. Spring time and college students along with their friends of all ages are all out and about. Going around to different parties all over the neighborhood. High on illegal substances and slammed on cheap alcohol, what could go wrong? A massacre by one man, that is. Inspector John West of the North Beach PD travels to bring the murderer to justice


Strong, violent beats vibrate the walls, the windows. The night itself is quiet, low fog in the area with hints of loud party-goers roaming around. Their noise, the lights from their accessories made the spirit of the evening thrive on. It seemed like the party was growing endless. The beats became louder, vibrating objects and collectibles off shelves. In some moments, they were softer thumps but other times created a disaster enough for it to seem like a minor earthquake had occurred. It kept waking up the gentleman for the evening- every evening. These parties, they go on for days and days at a time. It is the end of April in the year 2000 after all here in North Beach, and it isn't a surprise college kids were running around at late hours claiming the night with their irrelevant banter. Alcoholic drinks in hand, illegal substances in their system. If they were looking for trouble, they didn't have to search far to stirr up problems.

One particular party began no more than four hours ago next to a rundown apartment complex. There had to be a good sixty to seventy souls there all at once. The cracks of the opened blinds were no stranger to this kind of event. But this night, something is going to change, and change for the better. Should he do it?

Tossing and turning in a single bed, the room is well-lit due to the broken blinds. Barely hanging on from one side. The other had fallen off because of an accident when the item connected with a pair of heavy-duty boots. The lights flashing outside ever so brightly. They sparkled against every inch of texture, every surface, even above the gentleman's third-story apartment. It made it unbearable to sleep in. It doesn't make sense to sleep in the living room if that area is already being used for materials for work. Too much paper work, and too many empty bottles of whiskey. There was a loud crash shortly after, followed by a bunch of laughter. Seems like this particular group is getting out of control. It's time to do something.

The digital clock sitting on his dresser read three in the morning in neon green coloring, the alarm buzzing loudly waking up its patients as intended. A lazy arm was thrown on top of the clock, shutting it down from all the excessive noise- the man made sure to avoid that snooze button as he wouldn't need it for tonight. In a flash, he got out of his single bed, standing closely with the shadows as he peered over the transparent window. Sheets lazily tossed to the side, the bed remaining undone. He'll come crawling back to it then when the party settles down. Standing and staring out the window, he opened his eyes wide, checking the view. Enough is enough with this racket, and the authorities themselves are useless to stop these parties. There's too many going on at once. In a nightstand on the other side of the room, there was an item he'll use as a partner.

No thoughts scrolled through his sleep-deprived mind. Legs moved on their own, and so did those arms and hands. They went to open the top drawer with no hesitation. The contents inside were as one would expect- medication, scraps of paper and a protective sexual wrapper. He probably wasn't awake yet as the item he was searching for was on top of the drawer- a mostly plastic, white mask with four distinctive dark ovals on the bottom half with no more than a few inches for spacing. It had a leather band on both sides towards the top, wanting to be connected ever so violently. Picking up this mask with his right hand, his thumb graced the surface, touching the smoothness of it. No questioning, no words. Swiftly heading to the closet, the man searched through the darkness.

 _Don't turn on the lights, they'll know what's going on_. Nah- they're drunk, they're probably on something at the same time. They probably don't know their lefts to their rights. Swinging the mirrored closet door open, there was a navy dress shirt he had once used for a wedding for a co-worker years ago. Seeing how he hasn't changed much physically, it was going to be perfect. Snatching that item, he also reached for a pair of black slacks. The outfit was complete with a black wife beater, a pair of boxes, black socks and black dress shoes. With this mask, they'll never know it's him. He'll fit right in.

One by one, the article of clothing appeared on his body while getting dressed in the only bathroom he had available. With no windows the light was on at full force. There's products on the countertop with connections to his hair, his teeth, or wanting some body spray. It wasn't terribly neat but he knew exactly what he could do with it and where everything is. He didn't do with much effort for his hair, as it already was a mess thanks to its brilliant designer- the bed. The last thing to do before descending down to the ground level is to place on the mask. Gracing down at it for a moment, he turned the item over and having it slowly over against his face. The back side first touched his nose, placing it on with his head down. Both hands grasp at the leather band, securing them tightly to make sure his identity isn't easily discovered. Picking that head back up, he stared silently in the mirror. Brown eyes stared on.

Party ready, fit for an event of the ages. He nodded towards the image in the mirror. These actions weren't his, he could hear thoughts. Those of his own, but they weren't responding back. Someone was taking over him, everything he began afterwards was not like his own words, or gestures. It was somebody else's. Before leaving the home, he went into the kitchen and into a drawer that was known as the 'junk' drawer. Picking out a knife he had recently had found while at work, it was the perfect object to proceed the silence.

Exiting his apartment, the dressed man in the mask went down two flights of stairs. On ground level, he was only a fence away from the closest party near him. There was a small get together in a one-story home. That'll be the first target. Forget about the huge party going on doors away, nobody will suspect a thing if he were to hit up the smaller one- he was sure they wouldn't be missed much anyway. Or, at all.

The knife is in hand, holding it tightly in his dominant right hand. He left the common grounds of his apartment complex. There is one thing that's leading him onward, and that's to enjoy and experience the silence again. It wasn't long, about ten minutes or so as he appeared in the middle of the street facing towards a home with an opened garage door. There was one woman, and three men- middle aged sitting on their driveway on plastic, ugly moss green lawn chairs. Beer cans in their hands as they laughed on casually. They weren't the ones that woke him up, but it'll be enough to start with.

Mask on, and his weapon in his sleeve, the nameless individual moves on. They don't notice him at first, still joking yet laughing about their own matters. Given something about family or something that had happened to one of them previously. He was quiet at first, but made sure to hide behind a nearby gray truck parked by the curb of their home. One of them sips on their beer can delicately, trying to hold back any potential laughter from the friendly banter. He waited for what it seemed like hours, when only it was seconds. Moving from the street by the truck, he soon moved to the front of the vehicle. There, he made it clear: do it now, or throw your life by some pig-like cop patrolling the richer side of the neighborhoods who has nothing better to do.

 _One_. The masked individual moved on. He was swift in his delivering, making sure he tackled one of the men. Banishing the weapon of truth from his right sleeve, he delivered a blow violently the man's exposed neck. The first couple slashes were the most satisfying, the crimson splashed onto that bone-white mask decorating it with fresh, new colors. There was thoughts of confusion and soon, yelling. A loud yell from everyone involved. The woman dropped her beer can, getting up immediately and tried running into the home to dial for the authorities. The masked one didn't want that, and when his current victim wasn't moving, he went in for her. She did her best to run in her pastel pink moo-moo. Sandals on her feet created a clapping noise each time she took a step against her heel. She was close towards the inside of the home when a violent strike had stricken straight in the upper back. A bloody, loud scream. _Goddamn, the silence is still so far away_. He removed the knife, and stabbed her in a different region against her back. There was no way he was going to let this fail. Too many nights of having this occur, it had to be put to an end. For good.

 _Two_. The second to last victim clutched onto his beer can, and tossed it towards the murderer presented in front of him. Turning around, the man ducked his head down in case it had made contact with his mask, it instead hit his shoulder as he tried to block it. The can splashed its contents all over his shoulder, causing a navy dress shirt to eventually turn a darker shade of blue. His hands and knife are already covered in the victim's crimson. The blade dropped when his striking arm wasn't in stance, the blood pouring towards the cement floor of the garage. The other two were shaking, and burst towards two different directions. The masked one wanted the individual who had chucked the can first, who was making a dash towards the truck he was casually behind for just seconds. _Easy_.

Running track in high school must of given him an edge here, as he was easily able to catch the gentleman. He wasn't going to hold his victims and make them beg for their life. They had already made their decision for the loud noise. For being up after three-thirty in the morning, making noise for those who already work an impossible job. He slashed at his victim where he stood between the truck and the open street. It wasn't a busy one thankfully, but it also meant he had no audience to view what he was doing. To strike the fear of a higher power into those who deserved it. They tried blocking with their wrists and unfortunately, those were the masked man's target. He went for the vital veins in those arms, making sure the victim wouldn't survive this ordeal. Crimson swinging from the bottom of the mask onto anything it could get its hands on.

If he was truly heartless, he would of done things with a firearm. But what's the fun in that if the men can't defend themselves? Beer cans aren't a weapon, silly men.

 _Three_. The last victim was yelling to alert the neighborhood. Trying to wake them up at this deadly hour to get some help. Someone might of heard, but because of all the college and high school parties that were going on at the time and since the middle of April, they were out of luck. If the neighbors were going to call the police, it would be for disturbing the peace. Unfortunately for the murderer, he was running short of breath. Sweat drops beaded at this forehead dropping down shortly after towards his slick sick. Sweat was pressed against the mask and his eyebrows. He could feel it, but if he can get this last individual for the night, he would call this night a success. The last one ran quite fast though. It was going to be difficult to try and get him. But like all things in life, what must come up, must come down. The murderer got his break when the man collapsed on a stranger's yard only six houses down. This is just too easy now. He didn't say anything, he didn't have to say anything at all. Scrambling to get back onto his feet, the last victim couldn't do it. His feet were twisted, the adrenaline was too much.

 _Tick. Tock._

It wasn't long until the man was confronted with the murderer. There could've been, or there could of been absolutely nothing. It was difficult to tell. Crimson splattered onto his mask and onto his opened chest. Fresh blood dripping down as the dress shirt absorbed most of it. He didn't say much as the victim said his last words. Those words must of dropped out as he couldn't hear them much longer when a blow had landed against the skull of the soon-to-be deceased man. Plopped on top of the man, the beginning of the knife plowed against the victim's ear, and pierced his skull with ease. There, he couldn't of ever imagined of recovering back to his feet. Removing the blade from his victim's skull, he looked around rather quickly before popping back onto his feet. There, he deposited the blade in its case into his breast pocket and made the peaceful walk home. Until. ...

He kept on the mask while he saw neighbors leaving their front porches, wondering what the hell had happened to their fellow neighbors. There's a lot of blood on the scene, and four dead individuals. These weren't the work of animals or humans- or so they think right now. Some were mentioning they had called the police already and that they were on their way. The man knew he had to make it home before he got in trouble with his job. After all, being an Inspector isn't an easy job and it doesn't take long for the police in this town to respond to a murder call. They'll always show up for those.

With the crimson splattered against him and his person, he had to change his clothes immediately, throw on his uniform and get to the scene. Just as the masked man had fumbled for the keys for his apartment from his slack's pockets, he was right on time for the landline to be ringing in the kitchen. Nobody else calls him at four in the morning unless there was some kind of situation going on and or they required back up. Approaching the phone on the walls, he flickered on a few lights then removed the mask quickly and set it on the counter top. Picking up the phone, there was a voice that was in quite a haste. They demanded for the masked man to arrive at the address where the others are as soon as possible. They mentioned there is a murderer that may be on the run to get more victims. He nodded to himself, then gave the okay and soon hung up the phone.

Going to his bedroom, the murderer picked out his uniform from the same closet where he obtained his formal wears. He was quick to clean the crimson off of his hands, chest, face and other parts of the body with some heavy-duty chemical cleaners. They weren't safe for the skin, but he knew it was able to clean off the blood. Blood. Wait, he can hear himself think again. Peering around in the bathroom, he looked down to his hands. They were in front of him, spread out and still wet with drops of liquid falling into the sink below. Stretching out his fingers a few times, he realized that this was actually him again. The thoughts weren't hiding anymore, or blocked off. He remembers who he is, what he does for a living. Where he lives and who is his family. When the phone rang again in the kitchen, he knew he had to leave. Putting on his hat, he poured out of the only bathroom.

Before descending back outside, he had stood by the front door. The kitchen lights were the only one, and he could see a sheet over someone sleeping on a smaller couch in his living room. Despite having piles of papers and evidence all over the place, he saw that the person who decided to stay the night to study for finals was still here. It was a woman. Dark-oak like hair color, in a messy bun with the multi-toned grayscale sheet covering her figure. Her back-side showing towards the man. The murderer and the woman have a relationship- father and daughter. He signed, quietly closing the door as he left, locking it from the outside.

Since the violent scene had happened so closely, the man decided to walk to the location. A good ten to fifteen minutes because of the local community, other police stations from different parts of the city. And the media trying to get some information and leads as into what happened. There was men, women, teenagers and some children out in their pajamas, too. Rumors were quick to spawn within the group of strangers, but the Inspector knew better. Yellow caution tape separated the amateurs from the professionals. Making his way through the crowd with ease (with the help of him flashing out his badge), he saw a co-worker gesturing them for some information. As they pointed out different possibilities and eyewitness reports from those who may of been on the scene in the first place, the cop asked for a notepad and pen from another co-worker.

Jotting down different bits of information, anything will help to get this killer arrested. Their attack from the sounds of it was at random. He scribbled down a few notes here or there, sometimes looking up to see towards the crowd. It wasn't like this man couldn't of gotten out far. No traces of the weapon, or bloody footsteps. No fingerprints on anything. The investigation didn't last too long, as the nearby college parties began to die down upon hearing the murders. Word must spread quickly around here, as hundreds of men and women marched down the street to view the scene. Some thought of it as a music video, or a film being shot in the making. It didn't make sense though. Why would that happen at three in the morning? Heavy bags under the man's eyes, aside from the crowd making noise, it was actually quiet.

He could possibly get some sleep, for now. At least when they've received all the info they can get it. Tearing out the notes he had written down, he handed the notepad and a writing device back to his co-worker. Commenting they will do a full report in the morning when everyone's received some rest. Clearing out the hoards of people wasn't easy for the others, but it didn't matter. The Inspector said his good-byes to his fellow men and women as the paramedics tow one-by-one of the deceased bodies into the back of the ambulance. They arrived last, seeing how they couldn't do much to save these people.

Ah, well. A case to figure out in the morning, given the info is legitimate. For now, it's time to dim the lights, cover his person with thick, dark sheets and forget about it for now. If the killer was on the loose, the others are capable of apprehending the man for now.

 _Oh, what little do they know._


End file.
